


New Scream

by Suchsmallhands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: "Louis is loud", Asphyxiation, Bottom Louis, Breathplay, Choking, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Friends to Lovers, Headspace, If you're looking for breath play this is the most oriented fic you'll find on it, Inspired by aspects of the song new scream by Turnover, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non sexual breathplay, Non-Sexual Submission, Pretty much enjoyed writing Scenes of Louis getting high while listening to music, Shotgunning, Smoking, Sub Louis, Subspace, This is potentially triggering, Top Harry, just in the end, just kind of friends who are really fascinated with each other, just kind of happened, kind of drawn to each other, non sexual asphyxiation, read carefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchsmallhands/pseuds/Suchsmallhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are always in reach of each other, always circling each other, always drawn to come back at the end of the day. Eventually, Louis asks him to reach and grab him. Harry learns how to do just that.</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>  <em>It wasn't that Harry was surprised when he told him. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment.  
> My tumblr is in my bio if you want to talk.  
> Again feel free to comment anything. :)
> 
> *added note* I realize that this fic has a problematic area in it, I knew that when I wrote it. It's not really meant to be dark or obscure but it's also not at all morally due north or anything like that. This is just a warning to people who are sensitive that this isn't clear cut or morally righteous so be careful. (Just a disclaimer.)

It wasn't that Harry was surprised when he told him.  
He feels that maybe he should be surprised; it isn't far too common, although not abnormal. It's nature was something that made most people dismiss in quiet, rejecting silences coupled with that look that people gave things like this. The weird look, the one that wasn't really a look, but had just the right tone of distaste to make it clear that it was strange.  
He wasn't surprised by it. He hadn't expected it, but it made sense in some way.  
Louis and Harry were in Zayn's apartment, empty while he was at work, when Louis told him. Zayn had weed, that's what prompted Louis to lead Harry along here. So here they sat, on the floor in front of Zayn's couch, smoke making the air around them hazy. It was dark out, the city outside the windows casting a dull glow through the glass. The lamp cast Louis in a warm, hazy light.  
This was Harry's time with Louis. His time to study him, to watch him. His intimate time, set aside from the dull grating of everyday life, to be alone with him. Louis was interesting, worthy of a poet's interest, this poet for that matter. Harry was a writer. His thoughts were by nature a little obsessive with his work, which encompassed everything he found interest in; what he wrote about, his mind was nearly writing all day long. And Louis had, since meeting him through Zayn, quickly become his work.  
He, in the emotional, personally invested aspects of his thoughts, was warmed and very attached to the fact that Louis decided to spend his time with him alone. He was pleased to be chosen by Louis, so often, to watch him get high and talk to him.  
Right now, the part of Harry that was emotionally and personally invested in Louis was thinking in harmony with Harry's 'working' thoughts, about the way Louis looked right now. About his mouth in particular. His mouth was beautiful, and the shape of it was accentuated by the warm, low lighting in the room. His mouth was pressing into thin lines and relaxing, over and over again, without his noticing. A habit he did when he was thinking about something he would say. Harry knew this, knew it because of the hours he'd spent listening to Louis talk. Louis talked a lot with him, about how the world worked and how it made him feel. Topics ranged wildly, about his experience with life, generally. He only worked his mouth like this when he was not sure of how to word what he would begin to speak about.  
Right now, his mouth had been doing this for a while. Instead of the usual, narrow eyed look he usually used when trying to word something, his eyes were contemplative and nearly nervous. As nervous as someone like Louis could look, he looked right now. His soft features looked nearly obscene in his unsureness, hair feathering messily and naturally around his angel face.  
"I like..." Louis mumbled, sitting up with attention, facing Harry. Louis had stopped smoking since he'd begun to talk about this, seeming focused. "I want to try something."  
"With me?" Harry's brow creased a small amount. He thought about the kissing he'd done with Louis. Louis wasn't in a relationship with him. He wasn't the type of person who believed in solid concepts like dating. They didn't always kiss, just sometimes. The kisses always seemed to lay like an undertone in their lives, regardless. When Louis kissed other boys, and Zayn questioned him about his strangeness, Louis' kisses still always seemed to come back to Harry and to weigh more on Harry's lips than on the others. Louis had an affinity to being partial to Harry. He kissed other men, but when he got high he sat with Harry for hours to or just to sit.  
"I-... Yeah." Louis nodded, "I need someone I can trust. And I think you'll know what I want, the right way."  
"Okay." Harry nodded, his back leaned against the couch.  
"I..." Louis looked down, looking the most uncertain he had all night. He raised his penetrative gaze to his. "I want to be choked."  
Harry blinked, not moving.  
"Choked." He repeated. Louis' gaze was steady, an undertone of uncertainty that seemed to add taste to his determination to try this.  
"Choked." Louis nodded.  
"Like... during sex?"  
"No - I mean, I don't know - but no. I mean, I just want you to control my breathing. Just - just choke me."  
"Huh..." Harry narrowed his eyes. Louis' eyes flickered with displeasure.  
"You don't like it."  
"I didn't say that." Harry retorted evenly.  
"You don't understand it..." Louis worked with him.  
"It sounds pretty simple."  
"So you'll do it?" His smooth, arched brows raised a little in affirmation, chin tilting down a centimeter.  
"Yeah." He nodded. "I'll try it."  
"Okay." Louis' intelligent eyes shimmered with interest.  
"Okay." Harry murmured, not moving.  
"Now?" Louis shifted where he was seated on his curved thighs.  
"I- I don't know how to do it right now. I can try it once, but that's it. Just once while I don't how."  
"Just once." Louis nodded, "What are you going to read up on it?" His fox grin exposed the pretty line of teeth, eyes twinkling with a coy interest.  
"Yes." Harry nodded, huffing a laugh. Louis put down his joint, setting on a little plate and shuffling onto his knees to put the plate on the small table next to the arm of the couch. He had to lean across Harry's lap to set it down, bringing him close as he settled down again, sitting comfortably next to him.  
"That's all, just..." Harry questioned, shifting to sit up in front of him. Louis nodded. They sat quiet for a few seconds, the sound of their breathing filling the space. Louis reached down and took Harry's hand from it's rest on his leg. He guided his hand to his own throat with both hands, fitting his fingers around his neck.  
"Just squeeze." Harry checked.  
"Just squeeze, yeah." Louis nodded, his hand resting on Harry's wrist. Harry looked at him for a moment and fit his had snugly around his throat. He was taken aback, but not really after having kissed this neck before, by how correct it felt. It felt like his hand was exactly the right size to take control. He shifted his fingers around for a moment, feeling it out. Louis sat quietly as he did so. His fingers smoothed over his neck, wrapping around until there was a small portion of it left untouched. His palm felt good, fit against his soft neck. That was the other thing. His throat was soft, the skin smooth, the give of the column just the right amount of softness. His thumb rubbed his neck, pressing in softly to test the soft, warm give.  
Louis breathed contently for a few moments as Harry looked him over, given no warning when he gently squeezed down. The strength of Harry's hand seemed to show in Louis' eyes as he gripped. He didn't cut off his breathing quite like he'd expected too. He'd never really choked someone before, but he didn't expect that he'd need to squeeze in the right place in order to stop Louis' breathing. He squeezed slowly as he felt him out. His eyes watched intently, Louis' queues to see when he'd gotten it right. His hand tightened and loosened, shifting slowly. Louis frown pouted in discomfort as he coughed, gagging. Harry's hand suddenly felt right and he let Louis breath for a safe second before he squeezed down experimentally. He was right. Louis' eyes widened slightly, mouth opening a little bit. Harry didn't expect a shiver in his muscles at that moment. Louis' mouth opened to breath in on instinct and nothing happened. No sound of breath, no usual body signatures of respiration. Silence.  
His searching hand had come to a stand still, completely unmoving now that he'd found it. He watched steadily, Louis' reaction. In his eyes he could see the reflection of the realization he'd come to of how it felt not to breathe. Harry watched as Louis continued to blink, eyes full of the quiet reflection of thoughts as he sat pliantly. The feeling of his pulse against Harry's hand was the next thing he noticed. It captivated him, drawing him to the fragile, endearing pumping of his blood against his hand. He felt the way Louis' body reacted to him, under his control.  
He loosened his fingers all at once, hand staying flush against his throat. Louis' breath didn't come in one fell intake, it hiccuped once before sucking in and panting satisfyingly. He could almost feel the relief of oxygen in Louis' lungs, could hear it in the sound of his breath, the allowance of air and how much he had needed it now that Harry had allowed it back into his precious chest.  
Louis' eyes were wider than normal, long lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinked. Harry had never been so hyper aware of Louis' breathing before. He could hear the way it evened out, his chest slowing with less starved breaths.  
"Are you okay?" Harry checked, hand soft and gentle against his neck. Louis nodded, his breath from his nose fanning over Harry's arm, delicate and precious. "Breath." Harry told him, disregarding how commanding he knew he was being. Louis didn't have time to challenge his tone, eyes becoming attentive and taking in a full, important breath.  
Harry squeezed down on the warmth of his neck again, fingers closing around him and cutting off his air with a clean cut. There was no straining of air for one moment before he got it, a clean cut off of air and Louis stopped breathing. This time he watched as Louis processed it without the new shock in his eyes. Louis seemed to drink it in. Harry could feel Louis trying not to struggle for air like he had last time. His lungs still jumped instinctively to pull in oxygen but Louis' eyes showed his concentration as he tried to still his ribs. He assumed it was painful to gasp for air without any way of getting it, ribs straining against the unforgiving vacuum. He watched Louis close this time as he held on longer. He had already decided to see how his face changed if he held for longer, watching as Louis' eyes flickered with the realization. Louis was learning firsthand that Harry had control over his breath now, experiencing how it felt to be denied air when he knew he was beginning to need it, connected directly to Harry's will.  
Harry's hand didn't so much as twitch as Louis' brow creased and his lungs started to strain for air seriously. His eyes flashed with discomfort and squeezed shut as his mouth opened to breath. The way he opened his mouth for air made his jaw low against Harry's hand, a welcoming feeling as he held on. He watched as his eye lashes fluttered quickly. Louis' face only began to turn a soft, rose pink before Louis' hands jumped in his lap once and then both grasped onto Harry's wrist. He pulled in vain and then squirmed with his whole body once, struggling with him once with conviction before loosening and becoming still, though his hands still gripped Harry's wrist tightly with the fear.  
It wasn't until the panic left Louis' eyes, replaced by submissive, quiet desperation to breath, that Harry released him. He was sitting on his knees now, body leaning to Louis a little bit, engaged. Louis gasped this time, a rough, uneven gasp for air. The intake of air was much more consuming of Louis' attention this time, gulping and panting for moments before beginning to regain composure. Harry's hand was still against his neck, feeling it move under his hand. Louis' hands, smaller than his, were placed almost clingingly on Harry's still. He held with a gentle, but firm grasp as if holding on for comfort and connection with Harry. It was nearly needy or affectionate.  
Louis got his breath under control again, still deep and recovering. His eyes were a little wide with a winded or breathless shock, swallowing and blinking before looking at Harry.  
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, able to hear his own tone take on his concern. Louis nodded a few times, swallowing once more.  
"Yeah." Louis croaked, coughing and repeating himself softly. Harry pulled his hand away gently from his throat, not breaking away from Louis' hands which held onto him.  
"How do you feel?" Harry murmured.  
"Uh..." He blinked his fawn eyes, "Strange. Good."  
They sat for a few moments and Harry gently led Louis to get onto the plush couch, tucking his feet beside him. Harry didn't stay too touchy, knowing Louis would try to shrug him off and show he didn't need coddling or leading. He did as much as he knew he'd allow, settling him down as his blue eyes regained composure. He didn't know what to do, but as he watched Louis swallowing and remembered his coughs he stood and retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen.  
Returning, he sat close to him, his arm over the back of the couch as he faced him with his body and put the water in his hands. Louis huffed at it in surprised interest and amusement, gaze softly looking to him before he drank it in pleasing gulps. Harry kept watching him drink, satisfaction seeping into him as he cared for him. The sight of his throat swallowing down the water freely, without the tight squeeze of control on him, made Harry feel strange and good.  
He watched his neck swallowing and felt soft affection for his free movement, which he'd allowed. He liked thinking of controlling it again, squeezing his throat again and showing Louis that he was in his hands to control. He liked thinking of Louis allowing him to, and then of letting go and coddling him as he gave him water and cared for him. Adoring and appreciating his breathing and his swallowing and his pretty chest rising and falling, feeling like he controlled and protected him.  
He sat close to Louis and rubbed his shoulder, his muscles warm with the comfort of Louis body sat safely next to him, breathing and sighing with content. He thought for a moment in the quiet about how he felt different. He didn't know if it was a good thing. He'd always felt like Louis was his companion. Not really a friend, closer than that, but not his. He felt like he wasn't just interested in him anymore, now he felt a strange attachment to him. He hoped Louis would let him do this again, hoped he would come to him to be close.  
He liked the soft way Louis leaned into his side and sighed, head laying against his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up using the word 'perfect' a lot in the chapter because I was writing it in the a.m. when Perfect released.

Here they were again.  
It took a whole week to get back to Zayn's for Louis to smoke again. Zayn was the one who bought and shared, and Louis wanted to be alone, having to wait for Zayn to let them have the flat for a few hours while he worked.  
Today the sun was bright, burning through the windows and casting blazing sprawls of light across the living room rug and igniting the air. Somehow, even though the sun seemed to light a forest fire out of the air, it still shimmered in a peaceful, calming way in the room.  
Harry had been running Louis close in the background of his thoughts since the night he'd asked him to try what they'd done. He knew Louis had too because of their texts, checking in and asking about the other significantly more often than they normally did.  
Louis' lips closed around the rolled joint, his favorite pass time between him and Zayn. Harry watched, both seated on the rug floor of the living room, taking drags of his own blunt. They watched each other quietly as they smoked. Harry preferred the occasional cigarette, for himself and for others, to weed. But, Louis always made things different.  
Louis' back to the windows, Harry sat in front of him. Louis' frame was outlined by the golden rays of light, his hair making a feathery, yellow halo around his head. Harry watched Louis drag at the joint, watched his cheeks hollow out in a nearly ridiculously obscene manner. When he inhaled his eyelashes lowered over his cheek bones. Smoke floated around him in a haze of high lighted clouds, well defined by the sunlight. Louis lowered his hand.  
"So, did you read about it?" Louis asked.  
"About what we did?" Louis nodded.  
"Yeah, I did."  
"Well? What do you think?"  
"It's called asphyxiation." Harry murmured, "But... it has risks I don't like. Serious ones."  
"I doubt you'll accidentally choke me to death." Louis frowned, seeming to try and steer him from this course of thought. Harry gave him a stern look.  
"Not that. Different risks. I'd have to be really careful. I could really damage you physically."  
"Well... I trust you, if you'll do it."  
"I will." He murmured seriously.  
"Okay... I want to try it again." Louis shifted, lowering his blunt onto a little tray.  
"Okay. If you let me do it my way." Louis' eyes shifted with interest.  
"You have ideas?" Harry nodded. He stood, feeling his excitement rise when Louis stood as well. Harry lay a heavy hand on his shoulder and pushed him down, confidently pushing him onto his knees. Louis' eyes widened up at him, seated on his feet before him.  
"Listen, this is important." Harry spoke, willingly relaxing the tone of his voice so he didn't sound commanding. "If anything happens and you need me to stop, cross both of your fingers and hold them in front of your face so I see them clearly, okay?"  
"Yes. Okay." Louis nodded, the effect of the words hitching in his voice already.  
"Don't wait and try to hold it out if you start to think something's wrong, don't wait even a little." Harry's voice became more steady and heavy with command, half against his will.  
"I understand." Louis nodded, and Harry's stomach fluttered at the sight of him at his feet, listening to him.  
He made sure they were close to the couch for a reason before he reached down to him. He touched his face gently. He thought about the way Louis stood when he was with people. He stood with his feet set wide in a dominant stance. He thought about how much he loved that side of him and how much better seeing it was going to be when Louis obeyed him.  
Harry tilted his chin up with one hand, taking hold of his neck with the other and squeezing off his air without pretense. Louis' eyes blinked with surprise as he adjusted quickly.  
Harry didn't hold for long this time, breaking in short intervals. It was easy for Louis to hold his breath for the short time, not straining in pain. Being rewarded quickly, each time he held still, with the air Harry allowed him to breathe in.  
"Can you count for me?" Harry asked after a few minutes of this, opening his hand so he could speak.  
"What?" Louis frowned indignantly. Harry smiled. This was the part where Louis was going to have to openly obey him. Being controlled like this was already giving Harry dominance over him, but that was by nature. In unspoken ways, as Louis leaned into his hand, as his eyes glazed over with soft attention for Harry. Now Harry was going to make it clear that he was going to be given submission openly.  
"Count from one until I tell you to stop." Louis gave him a frown, his frown quickly replaced by discomfort as Harry cut off his breathing without warning.  
"You want to count for me, don't you? I want to see it." Harry murmured gently, earning a displeased scowl from him, one without much bite to it considering he was unable to breath. Harry released, Louis breathing for a moment.  
"Yes." Louis mumbled. Harry chuckled and Louis rolled his eyes, "One." Harry quickly choked him off, pleased by the affected look Louis gave, eyes softening a bit and looking slightly uncomfortable. His hand released after a short time, just long enough for him to want to breath again. Louis, unused to speaking directly after, paused before blurting.  
"Oh- two." He jumped, watching Harry as he continued, unsure of how far he should count. "Three. Four. Five." Harry squeezed again, stopping him. Louis' brow twitched and his eyes flashed with slight confusion, looking unsure and a little uncertain of the purpose of this. He seemed to be a tiny bit insecure about his confusion, sitting patiently in Harry's hand as he waited to breathe again. He breathed in when released and watched Harry for understanding.  
"Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. T-" Harry cut him off. The confusion in Louis' expression began to settle, replaced by calmer focus on continuing. It continued just like that, each time Harry changed the amount of numbers he could get to. He was achingly careful about how long he held Louis' breath. He counted in his head the seconds that passed when his hand squeezed his throat shut, thinking about the risks he'd read about and thinking about how long he could hold his own breath before inhaling.  
Harry watched as Louis slowly became more and more soft in his hands, eyes becoming quieter and words slurring, mind forgetting to number.  
"Twenty three. Twenty four... Twenty - twenty five." He mumbled, and Harry leaned down to him. He kissed his mouth, Louis kissing back after a moment, pressing up into him and kissing sweetly at his mouth, nearly tenderly. He continued to kiss him, Louis' head tilted all the way back to breath into his mouth. He's known Louis for a while now, had been his friend for a long time. Even cared about him, loved him, been shocked by him as a person. But it isn't until this moment as Louis' hands hold onto his legs, that he feels like he understand what it feels like to be in love. He's a writer, a poet, he knows about these things. Never experienced it like this.  
He knelt down in front of him, hand still tight around his neck. Louis seemed hazy with the head space Harry had put him in, eyes following him. He squeezed onto his neck again, stilling him for a few moments.  
He knelt close to him, releasing him. Louis began counting before he started breathing again.  
"Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Th- Thirty one. Mmm-... Thirty two." Louis breathed deeply, catching up, eyes locked on Harry's. Harry's eyes were washed in light, spring on fire. He squeezed again. Then released.  
"Thirty two. Thirty three." Louis mumbled, breathing deeply, "Thirty four."  
Harry squeezed. Louis didn't even blink, mouth opening a tiny little bit at the lack of air. Harry leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his open mouth. Louis immediately kissed back, jaw shifting against his hand as he kissed, no breath touching Harry's lips.  
When he released him, Louis opened his mouth to count, coming up blank and mumbling a sound as if trying to do his best even if he couldn't remember the number.  
"Breath, Louis." Harry murmured quietly, loud enough to make it easy for him to hear it. "That's good, Lou, perfect."  
Louis inhaled smoothly, pausing a little when full and then exhaling. The feel of it under Harry's hand was perfect. He felt the pleasure as Louis' breath came even and full, filling up his lungs.  
Harry pulled his hand from his throat, watching as Louis' head nodded forward a little bit after his hand. He fit both his hands under Louis' armpits, pulling him up gently and slowly. He made sure to carefully walk him to the couch, knowing he could be lightheaded. He sat him down on the cushions, sitting next to him. Louis leaned against the cushions, breathing deeply and evenly. Pulling their bodies close together, Harry bundled Louis' legs up into his lap so that they were close together.  
He knew he was probably crossing a line that he hadn't consulted Louis about before they had begun when he wrapped his arm around his waist and pressed kisses into his mouth, soft and reciprocated by the boy in front of him.  
Harry had one more thing he wanted to do before he finished, beginning to feel like this session had gone on long enough to feel completely safe. He leaned over the side of the couch and picked up the blunt on the tray, lifting it to his mouth and taking a drag. He felt Louis' hands playing softly with the hem of his shirt. His actions were mindless and natural, his eyes still glazed with the head space he was in. After taking a drag he lifted it to Louis' mouth, holding it against his lips as he parted them and breathed in, exhaling smoke.  
He passed the joint from his hand to his other, holding it as his dominant hand pressed against Louis' neck. Louis' eyes shifted with attention immediately, responding to the touch.  
Harry rubbed his neck with his thumb, letting him breath before cutting his air off.  
"Open your mouth. Breath right in for me, baby, yeah?" Harry murmured, quickly dragging from the blunt and holding the smoke inside his mouth. Louis nodded in his hand. Harry leaned forward, opening his mouth and pressed against Louis', letting the smoke fall heavily between their mouths. He released his hand, Louis breathed in just as he was asked to. The smoke from Harry's mouth sucked up into Louis' open, waiting mouth.  
Harry put the blunt away, deciding Louis had had enough for today. He leaned over and got the water bottle he had brought for Louis, keeping it in his lap for when he needed it. Louis leaned heavily against the couch, Harry's kisses peppering over his face and neck and shoulders.  
"Thanks." Louis mumbled, once he'd come around. Harry kissed at his temple once in response.


	3. Chapter 3

Whatever amount of time he'd spent with Louis before was perhaps more than doubled.  
Suddenly Harry feels like he understands why Louis gets high. It's not fully about needing to relax or running from something else. For Harry, he finds that when he's with him and he's listening to music Louis put on, watching him dance for him and smile that smile, the world narrows down to small spaces the size of Zayn's living room. Things become quiet and beautiful. All of the sounds of the world become muddled and all of the sounds of his music and his breath and his voice when he giggles and strings Harry along, all of those sounds become crystal clear.  
He knows he's getting attached. More than he should be. And he knows it's because Louis asked him to hold his breath. He doesn't know why it's creating these ties and connections that are wrapping around Harry's arms and legs and pulling him onto his knees, crippling him. He's not sure why it's making him want to do anything Louis asks of him, making him want to protect him and listen to him. But he just knows that when he's holding Louis' very breath in his hand, he feels like the most important person in the world. And he feels that breath all day long; feels it in his hand, hears it in his ears, sees it when he watches him.  
He'd cared before but now he's wishing it had stayed that way. This was complicated, now.  
Zayn sits with Harry on his couch, smoking a cigarette and reading. His long body was leaned back, arm over the back of the couch. His black hair hanging forward across his straight, dark brow.  
"Where are you and Louis going?" Zayn spoke up, huffing out a thin cloud of smoke.  
"A movie. Then he wants to go down to the Warehouse, I think. I don't know." Harry mumbled, hands thumbing thoughtlessly over his jeans. Warehouse Live is a venue where bands can come and play gigs, nice lighting and a bar available. It's a nice place, Louis has taken him before. He follows Louis around as he flits around from upstairs to downstairs, listening to the musicians as they play and having drinks.  
Zayn sighed lazily, languid eyes on the pages. "You're taking my boy again."  
"What?" Harry frowned. Louis was getting changed in Zayn's room at the moment. He'd come over after work to meet them at Zayn's where they all normally gathered.  
"He keeps hanging out with you, moron." He smiled jokingly. His deep drawling voice rolling over his 'h's.  
"Right..." Harry feels a little bad about that. Mainly because Louis keeps smoking Zayn's weed alone with Harry. He should tell Louis to pay him back.  
"Normally he'd chill with me after work and play a game or smoke. Every since you started choking 'im he doesn't want to smoke as much."  
"What?" Harry narrowed his eyes. Now that he thinks about it, it makes sense. Louis doesn't seem to smoke as much as he used to, narrowing it down to only sometimes with Harry. He also didn't know Zayn knew what he did to Louis but that was less important than the former.  
"Yeah, he just chills now. S'like you mellowed 'im out." Zayn chuckled under his breath.  
"Really?"  
"I think so."  
"Sorry.. about taking him."  
Zayn looked up from his book, "Nah, it's fine. We still hang out." Harry nodded, thinking.  
Louis emerged from the hallway, prancing and waltzing in spirited humor around the couch to the door.  
"Up, Hazza!" He chimed, waiting as Harry stood from the couch.  
He looked beautiful that night. Louis wore jeans that made Harry feel like it was a sin to let others see him in them. He wore a black, loose cotton t-shirt that hung below his collar bones and exposed his neck. Over it he wore a denim jacket. He looked so natural and well put together, as if he'd just thrown on the first things he'd seen, hips swaying as he took his strides. His ankles left uncovered, Harry had a hard time taking his eyes off of him that night.  
They went the warehouse, the tiny venue making Harry feel close and comfortable next to Louis.  
Smooth, ambient bands played their chilled music – which only Louis seemed to know the words to the obscure, unknown songs - and he fell right into it. Harry held Louis' hand as they entered, following behind as Louis pulled him towards the floor in front of the stage. People mingled in the dark-lit room, facing the stage and holding their drinks. Louis smiled and laughed as he held Harry's hand and twirled around him, swaying slow and easy in front of him. Harry danced with him, an easy, relaxed smile on his face as Louis stepped in time to the music and pressed in close to him. It isn't like he should have been expected to keep his hands off of Louis, dancing close to him and wearing those damn jeans that he knows clung just the right kind of tight against his legs. Harry's hands moved from Louis' to his waist, sliding into the open denim jacket and laying warmly against his waist. Louis swayed a little closer to him, the warm, low lighting casting him into an intimate, soulful tone. Harry let him dance close and rubbed his thumbs around his lovely body, letting his fingers shift around his back. His hands slid heavily down and lay against his hips, rubbing and gripping him as he danced. He felt Louis' stupidly desirable hips sway a little smoother, a little more in time, a little deeper under his hands. Harry dropped his head to touch his forehead to Louis', eyes sliding half closed. Louis' hands, which had been resting on Harry's arms, raised to rub over Harry's shoulders as he wrapped his arms around his neck loosely. Harry closed his eyes, listening to the vibrating music as it rumbled like low liquid in his chest, seeming to move Louis' ungodly hips under his hands. Louis pressed his body against his and seemed to dance for the purpose of dancing against him.  
Later, when the bands changed and more perfect music filled the room, Louis drug Harry up the narrow staircase. The walls were covered in papers and writing and stickers, the ceiling low. Louis brought him into the room upstairs, to the bar. He bought drinks, his cup in his hand and that low shimmer in his eyes as always. Another man asked Louis to dance and he agreed, taking his hand and laughing over his shoulder to Harry. He sat at his stool, leaning his back against the bar, elbows propped up behind him. He just rolled his eyes, slightly disgruntled as he danced around with the man.  
Louis eventually came back, his breath light and heavy from dancing, that easy light in his eyes. He looked a good kind of worked, the kind people get from dancing. Harry watched as Louis danced for him in front of his chair, snapping his fingers and shamelessly moving to the sound. Harry watched him laugh and twist around for minutes, would have for hours, before Louis drifted closer and stood between his legs. His eyes were attractive and alluring, smiling wider when Harry leaned forward and put his hands on him. His hands were affectionate and possesive against his over warmed and heated body.   
In that moment, as his hands moved around on Louis' swaying body, he wanted to be at home. He'd have to remind himself to do that later. Later he decided, he'd have Louis dance for him as music flooded Harry's room. He'd have Louis dance close and he'd put his hands where ever, however he wanted them. He'd be able to kiss him and press his nose against his body, to pull him into his lap.  
For now, Louis just smiled and danced appropriately between his legs, giving Harry chills when his hands roamed around that perfect waist.  
That night his emotional attachment to Louis' body became cemented. Now it was familiar and comforting and thrilling. Perfect.  
He kissed Louis' cheek when he dropped him off at Zayn's house later that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry wrote and wrote and wrote.  
All he did was work, be with Louis, and write.  
He worked and thought about getting off of work, somehow still being in a better overall mood than he normally ever was at work.  
He was with Louis, delighted by how much Louis sought him out. Coffee was somehow so nice, playing with each other at their table. Day trips in the city to strange, obscure things Louis always somehow knew about, like street races and roof top parties. His weeks were becoming filled with film stills from movies screens. It all seemed so simple and so beautiful. Sunsets and city lights and laughing with Zayn, everything was becoming _la vie en rose_ and Harry didn't really know how to react to it fully. Louis swept him so fully and completely off of his feet.  
And writing was something he did obsessively. He did it in the moments when the world around him was moving and he was going unnoticed, seeing everything from outside. He scribbled things down on pen and made notes and zoned out, narrowing his eyes and thinking.  
Louis never asked what he was writing about. His attentive, observant eyes didn't escape Harry, though, when he was scribbling on notepads. Louis always seemed to have two reactions, both of which Harry was choked by. Both were so... art for him. But everything was with Louis, really, everything was becoming some huge art piece - the sun, the moon, the sky, the wind, apartment spaces, Zayn's laughter, winter air, laughing 'till he cries when he and Zayn and Louis sit in a circle and smoke. When Louis catches Harry frozen in thought and writing, he sometimes just smiles a tiny, mindless curve and then turns around and returns to living. As if he knows. As if he can see it that Harry is working and that his work is influenced by whatever his world is doing. And, as if someone being noticed they're being photographed, sometimes Louis just turns back and pretends he hadn't noticed. Other times, he crowds Harry's space, pulling him into his surroundings. It effectively broke Harry's train of thought, something he normally would be furious over, but he just can't. He never thought it would be true, but it happened to be that this artist's inspiration was grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him in to dance with the art Harry was in awe over. Harry just wasn't the kind of guy who would rather write it than live it, he guesses. Not in this case.  
The only time Louis ever really mentioned the fact that Harry wrote, was on a Saturday night at Zayn's flat. Harry was leaned against the counter, watching Zayn and Louis as they talked on the couch, listening to music. Louis got up and danced a little, making Zayn laugh before he walked over to Harry. Harry looked up from his notes to look at Louis as he approached, that stupid, background smirk on his mouth as always.  
"Write on me." Louis murmured, his unbearable voice chiming in a high pitched way that still stayed warm. Harry looked at Louis' hand as he extended it towards him, his eyes blank, brows arched. He had no idea what to write. He wrote about the way Louis made his world so often, how is he supposed to write on him? He has no idea how he decided, and he didn't really think as he reached out. He scrawled it over the back of Louis' smooth hand, the black ink sliding in his slanted lettering.  
Louis looked at it and his ever present, soft smile smoothed out. His brow furrowed and he looked at it for a moment, quiet.  
"I like it." Louis mumbled, almost sounding surprised. He had taken his hand that night and pulled him into the living room with Zayn.  
It seemed like love was a filter and it had slowly slid over his world. It had been so idle before, and in the last few months Harry felt his heart thicken and thicken until he was well and truly - well - whatever this was.  
It was the first time, later, when he saw that perhaps Louis was as invested in him as he was. Harry lay with Louis that night, at his own flat, in his bed. It wasn't as if he hadn't lay with him here before, and it had been equally as lovely then. But his attachment was changing. Now it felt important to be here. Louis lay a bit on his side, cushioned by pillows and facing him. He made total eye contact, something Harry normally didn't feel comfortable doing with others. He just lay next to him and controlled his breathing as Louis relaxed with him. Eventually Louis had ended up wrapping his hand around Harry's arm, in all of it's gentle, warm, delicate softness. And then he leaned forward while breathing and kissed him. He'd never initiated it before and he kissed closely. He touched Harry with his hand, coming close with his shoulders and chest. Harry's hand stayed soft and loving against Louis' neck and Louis didn't pull away, continuing. His mouth was so, so soft. It just fit. And Louis stayed just as close when Harry choked him.  
It made him feel so close, like he'd never been with another person. No, that doesn't even matter. Like he'd never been with Louis. Louis allowed him to decide of his own accord, when and when not he would breathe. The thing that he had done since the beginning of his life, what he did to live. And he would allow Harry to stop him, would trust him to give him air when he needed it, would wait without oxygen and without the ability to get it even if he wanted it, patiently. Harry felt it in his right hand, all day long, the closeness Louis gave him when he handed over the power of his breathing. It wasn't submission of behavior or submission of dignity or of power. it was submission of a basic unit of sustenance; breathing. Above it all, not only did Louis let him have the control, he drew closer to it. Louis lay closer than he need to when they would lay together with his hand on his neck. Louis held onto his hand, he pressed his neck into his palm with trust and affection, he shuffled closer to stand a little nearer during the day even when they weren't doing it. He indulged it, and now he had kissed him as if he couldn't go without doing it. 

-

Louis specifically came home with Harry to his flat this night. He was soft and quiet and close, touching Harry mindlessly when they walked into his flat with the tips of his thin, pretty fingers.  
Harry closed the door behind them when they got inside, keys to his car still hanging in his hand. He stood quietly inside the door, waiting to watch Louis. His chin tilted down just a bit to see Louis' shorter body stepping closer to him. Louis' body slid closer to him, hands making gentle contact with him. His hands were calm and slow, unhurried and so stupidly effecting. He was being so quiet right now, hands so slow as they held onto Harry for a moment and then slid around his clothing, feeling him. Harry watched, unmoving, Louis' dark eyes hooded and relaxed as they roamed around Harry's body. For a brief moment of self awareness, Harry wondered what it was about himself that earned Louis' eyes like this.  
Louis walked to Harry's room quietly, not even looking as if he had plans, padding with his relaxed gate in no hurry. Harry fell in step behind him, swallowing down the ridiculous chills that surpassed his skin. They were the kind of chills that sank in from the outside of the skin, like water that passed through flesh and saturated every part of his body. He was comfortable and his feet seemed to shadow Louis as if only he knew the correct path to walk. His eyes were trained on Louis' shoulders and back, draped in a simple black shirt, tracing every movement. He was in the middle of being willingly mesmerized by Louis' frame, by the shape of his shoulders and back and ribs, when Louis turned around and placed hands on Harry's biceps. He pushed him down to sit on the bed and stood a few heads taller than him, just paused to look at Harry with that stupid half smile and his soft eyes. Harry leaned back on his hands, watching as Louis pulled his phone out of the tight jean of his back pocket and connected it to the little speaker he kept on Harry's desk in his room.  
The music started playing. Something ridiculously slow and quiet, not all the way sexual, but not without a melodic pulse. A pulse that Louis didn't have to do anything to react to. It always mesmerized Harry, the way Louis melted into his surroundings without thinking twice.  
He watched from his front row seat as Louis closed his eyes for a moment and swayed in his steps. He watched the familiarity of Louis' lowered head, the way his hands raised up a little to snap silently sometimes or just to rest near his ribs. He watched without a lump in his throat, totally relaxed by the sight of Louis' movement. The way his hips dropped a little with his steps, scooping into their dips. He watched Louis' thighs and how they moved together. How they parted and reunited, how they raised in steps and how they slid with his hips.  
Louis opened his eyes a little, nearly gliding to him. He had Harry looking up at him, standing close to him. He ran his hands slow over Harry's shoulders and collar bone, fingers brushing his neck. He opened his hands for Harry's, him lifting his from the bed to give to him. Louis guided them to his waist. He held onto them the whole time, swaying under his hand to the music. Nothing too fancy, no rolling hips or strange movements, just natural swaying to the soft, almost intimate or loving music.  
He moved his hands down to his own hips, pressing Harry's thumbs into the soft area inside the firmness of his hip bones. He took Harry's hands and pushed them slowly up under his shirt, sliding them over the warm, almost hot skin of his soft stomach. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, hands covering a large area of his stomach and able to feel so much of his movement here.  
His eyes were fortunately open when Louis' thighs part and straddled his lap, sliding down onto his thighs. Harry stopped breathing for a moment, feeling the way Louis' hips pressed close to his, breath fanning warmly over his chin and lips. He regained his breathing when as Louis rocked slowly with the soft music. He swallowed in disbelief as Louis rocked slowly. Somehow he didn't even feel that sexually about the movement of Louis' body. Somehow the soft way Louis rolled against him was loving and drawing for closeness.  
Louis' hands played at his ribs and chest before wrapping around his shoulders loosely as he rocked a little more firmly.  
Harry held his waist and ran his hands over his body, hands flat against him and contouring every shape. He was peppering the side of Louis' neck, reaching his jaw line when Louis stood and pulled off of his lap. Harry could have groaned. He didn't, strong hands restraining themselves to drag weakly at Louis' shirt as he pulled away. Louis faced him, hands pulling up his shirt a little and fingers reaching the button on his pants. Harry' breath quavered in gratefulness as Louis' pretty fingers opened the zipper and slid around to his hips to slowly inch them down to hang low on him. He then turned around, hiking his shirt an inch higher on the small of his back, and then slowly sliding his pants down his ass. He didn't shimmy or roll his hips or push out his bum, just slowly and as if at home with no one watching, pushed his jeans down until they slid down his thighs to his knees. His underwear hugged his body, stretching over the beginnings of his thighs.  
Harry supposes it's not Louis' purposeful doing that he has to bend over to get his pants all the way off, but his own eyes look up at the ceiling and his stomach tightened with the unfairness of how much he already wanted to touch and was having to deal with this.  
Louis stepped back and Harry tried not to whine with how perfect he looked, sitting down on Harry's crotch. He exhaled as Louis sat down softly and leaned back into his chest, rolling his ass from side to side a little on him. Harry's hands trembled a little shiver before steadying as he held onto Louis' waist.  
Louis stood and turned around again, to slide into his lap gracefully, arms wrapping immediately around his neck. He stayed there then. Louis pressed his body as close as he could then, rolling and moving against him. Harry's hands were on him and his head pulled back a little to hold a few inches front of Louis' face. Louis stayed where he was, staring at Harry with his raspy, soft eyes. Louis kissed him. His lips were as soft as they always were and Harry truly lost track of time and awareness. Everything was reduced to Louis' body on him and his lips. He kissed him, deepening it, jaw sliding under his skin as he pressed into the kiss. Louis hummed quietly against his mouth, seeming to preen in his adorable pleasure at how lovely it was to kiss.  
"Can't properly dance on you while you're on the bed. But I can't really be bothered to get a chair, either." Louis breathed against his mouth, lips still pressed close.  
"Don't even..." Harry muttered almost commanding, nosing down along Louis' neck, "Stay."  
"I'll stay." Louis hummed, breath catching as Harry nipped at his neck. It seemed to spur him on, lifting his head and pulling Harry's lips back to him. He pressed in close, rolling to the music and arms squeezing around his neck closer. One of his hands gripped into Harry's curls, knuckles sinking into the hair. Louis' shoulders drawn up and his stomach bowed into him, sliding his tongue around his and squeezing his thighs around him. Harry let out a soft little groan and his hands circled Louis back, arms hugging him against him.  
Louis rolled his hips in time with the music and his tongue, his whole body rolling against Harry. Somewhere between his tongue and dancing, Louis' movements stopped becoming in time to the music and became his body wrapping around Harry to get impossibly closer. His chest pressed against him and legs squeezing him, hand never letting go of his hair, body rolling in affectionate, clinging, full body hugs.  
Sex didn't come up when Louis stopped moving. His kissing slowed until it was just the brush of their lips. He lay down with Harry and they didn't speak, falling asleep eventually, in between the slow touches of breath on skin and warm fingers sliding softly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This stuff is all just me excelling in the field of trash and garbage, my apologies.

Louis was at work while Harry came to Zayn's and sat with him on the couch. He hadn't seen Louis in nearly three days, a new record for the last month at the least. He was eager to see him again, eager to feel the comfort of his presence. Eager to bring him home after three days of not choking him and feel the closeness again, feel reconnected and in control.  
"Harry." Zayn murmured, smoking a cigarette with a crease in his brow and frowning.  
"Yes?" He looked at him strangely.  
"Don't you think you're being a little rough with Louis?" Zayn looked at him, setting his cigarette down. His eyes were concerned. "I mean, I know it's consensual, I get it. And I know it's not my business. I'm just wondering what's up... It's not like he would talk about it."  
"What?" Harry gave him an incredulous frown. "Where would you get that from? I'm always careful. Why?"  
"Well, you bruised his neck. He looks like he's been strangled. It just looks a little more serious than what I thought it was between you. It's a little worrying."  
"I didn't do that." Harry felt his insides get hot and stagnant. Zayn gave him an unimpressed look, waving his hand in exasperation.  
"Well, 'e's got bruises."  
"Not from me." Harry grit his teeth, not yet sure what the feeling in his head was. The understanding seeped into Zayn's expression, the mild irritation replaced by quiet awareness of Harry and his reaction.  
He must have avoided him for three days for this purpose.  
Harry new Louis would be getting home soon. He sat there for a moment, not sure what he was feeling. His insides felt like a congested mess, a lot of things trying to process but unable to get passed each other. He knew that Louis would be home soon, and that if he faced him now he'd react too harshly.  
On one hand, if he saw him he may not be able to do anything but stare at him and feel like he'd been betrayed. He hadn't been, though, had he? He knew Louis wasn't only his, not yet. But he'd sort of thought that perhaps they'd just work it out - he doesn't know - he thought he'd just let Louis know how he felt eventually. He didn't want to have all of those feelings in front of Louis and be unable to do anything but feel... ache.  
On the other hand, he felt a little angry. _Idiot._ What is he thinking? Didn't Louis know Harry wouldn't be okay with this? Not that it mattered. That fact only served to work him up more. Through whatever they were doing with Louis' breath, Harry had taken some sort of ownership over him. And Louis knew that. Mostly he was furious because Louis had done something dangerous and he knew it. Harry's anger wanted to act. To shake him and make him promise not to be reckless and stupid again, or just put him under and make it clear that he wasn't to let any one else touch his neck.  
Both of those reactions made Harry want to lock himself in his room and not let himself out until he had some control over his emotions. How he was going to gain this control, he had no idea. He had a feeling that if he saw Louis he'd have a hard time with it all over again.  
The bottom line is, he isn't his. And it's killing him to think about. 

-

He wasn't fully prepared to see him when he did later. He didn't even really think about it. He texted Zayn, asking what he was doing for the sole purpose of finding out if he was with Louis. He also texted Louis, getting short and nice but uninformative responses.  
He drove straight to Zayn's, not sure what he was going to do. He didn't think much either when he jogged up the stairs to Zayn's floor, knocking and waiting with an empty plan and a heavy heart beat.  
He didn't know why it mattered. It's a little embarrassing, acting like he'd been hurt by someone who hadn't said he was his in the first place.  
Zayn answered the door, eyes taking on a quietly concerned look when he saw who it was, stepping back to let him him. Harry didn't look at him again, a one track mind when he stepped in. Louis was standing in the kitchen, next to microwave as Harry stopped where he was, jaw set tensely. Louis looked at him wide eyed, as unfairly gorgeous as he ever was. He had turned around, looking paused in place. It was clear he knew Harry knew.  
In all the silence, he took notice of what Louis was wearing. A turtleneck. Of course.  
Harry crossed the distance in little time, Louis unmoving when he reached him.  
"Harry!" Zayn barked, as he reached him. Harry grabbed him by the arms and pressed him into the counter behind him, Louis squeezing his eyes shut as Harry took his jaw in his hand and tilted his head to the side.  
" _Don't, Zayn._ " Louis' voice jumped sharply, his eyes distressed but commanding. Harry wasn't sure what he was saying that for, but could guess by the distance between him and Zayn that he'd taken a few steps towards him.  
Harry recognized Zayn's instinctual reaction to stop him, rejecting it. _As if I'd hurt him._ His thoughts half amused half bitter.  
He gripped Louis firmly where he was, acting without thinking. He held Louis' jaw, exposing his neck and with his free hand yanking down the collar of his sweater. Just as he had expected, a choppy ring of fading, sickly bruises line his neck. Louis stayed still, tense in his grip as was understandable for someone being handled in this way by someone taller than them.  
Harry stared for a moment, feeling all of the feelings from earlier choking around his throat. He didn't know how Louis did it, because he felt like he couldn't breath and it wasn't pleasant.  
He unhanded Louis as if his touch burned him, turning his back on him and taking distancing steps away. Frustration making his shoulders tense. Louis huffed out the breath he'd been holding, making Harry wish he wasn't so terribly aware and tuned to the sound of Louis' breath. He listened to it like he was monitoring it, soothed by it's healthy rhythm, sometimes without him even thinking about it.  
Turning around he saw Louis, still against the counter, pulling his sweater back up and looking at the ground with some kind of soft conflict in his gaze.  
"What did you _do!_ " Harry grit, not sure how to handle himself. He wasn't angry with him. How could he be? He just... he couldn't stop seeing someone else's hand choking Louis and it was making it hard for him to process himself.  
Louis swallowed, quiet.  
"Who did that to you?" Harry growled, knowing that question didn't even mean anything. He was just upset.  
"Someone my friend knew. I asked him to." Louis murmured, as if soothingly.  
"You asked him to hurt you?" He snapped. Louis gave him a quietly reprimanding look.  
"Don't."  
"Is that what you wanted?" He matched his steely eyes, not backing down. Louis didn't either.  
"It was an accident, it just happened." He answered, voice cold.  
"Trust me, _that_ doesn't happen on accident." He would know. Louis got the message, that Harry had always intentionally left Louis unharmed.  
"I'm fine." His voice was hard. He felt stung.  
"Clearly! Did you fuck him, too?" Louis' eyes fired with his reaction, unyielding.  
"If I did, it wouldn't have been up to you." He snapped. Harry's teeth clicked shut. He wanted to yell and tell him it should be up to him. He wanted to walk out and pretend he'd never gotten involved.  
This was exactly why he hadn't wanted this. Before it hadn't mattered what or who Louis did. What they were had been enough. Now it mattered. So much. All Harry could think about was how reckless and absolutely dangerous it was. Of course he couldn't be with other men! Harry couldn't make himself back off. He felt intruding and like he was suffocating Louis, and not in the way Louis liked. He didn't like this. But he couldn't make himself even picture the thought of some stranger choking him. His head was racing through all of the things he was so careful about when he held his breath. He thought of all the cells in his brain that needed oxygen and that could only go a certain amount of time without it. How many little pieces of Louis had this stranger violated?  
"You're insane. What you're doing is insane." Harry's voice bit at him, feeling his tone only barely beginning to soften with confusion and the crying desire to keep him for himself. He made sure to keep his anger in place, protecting his voice from faltering. "Go ahead and fuck around with whoever you want. I don't care."  
He didn't know what to say or how to handle himself or Louis, leaving the flat and slamming the door behind him. He drove home and lay in bed, turning off his phone. He didn't talk to Zayn or Louis for the next few days, going to work and coming home. His desk where his writing stayed was left untouched, the pen staying just where it was.  
Maybe he was overreacting. He just didn't know how to accept Louis putting his safety into another's hands. Truthfully, not knowing how to accept Louis putting himself at all into another's hands while Harry's grew cold and longingly empty.


	6. Chapter 6

Part of him is very sad.  
Harry didn't want to see Zayn or Louis, feeling much better in his flat with the door locked. He's never been very dramatic, so he feels kind of silly for wrapping himself in blankets and drinking warm tea. Tea that he specifically made to taste bad so that he didn't go through Louis' regular process. He didn't plan to keep this up for long, it's dramatic of him. But he really doesn't feel like doing anything more than he has to do to make money.  
It's not even a break up. Louis wasn't his. He just feels like he wants to push away all of the potential threats that he sees from faceless men who are willing to do what Louis asks. Wants to push them all away and bring Louis back to his side. But he also wants to be wanted by Louis. Perhaps that's another thing that's got him sighing and sitting on his bed, looking out the windows at the cold streets.  
Christmas Eve is only a few week away, it's Louis' birthday. How is he supposed to spend it with him now?  
He feels silly. Feels silly for wanting Louis right now more than ever, to hold onto and to comfort him with his soft body and warm scent.  
He does feel a little bitter about it. Louis had gone to someone else. Even though he'd always had that freedom, Harry had just not realized that he'd grown too attached for Louis to go to others for things he came to Harry with. He usually feels his bitterness when he gets dressed for work, feeling more rejecting of Louis when he went out.  
He still felt a little tired and a little sad when he got home, anyways. 

-

Harry walked out of the building, onto the streets. He had to circle around the back to the parking lot to get to his car. It was raining today, not much now, the streets reflecting some of the watery light.  
With keys in his hand, running his hand through his hair as he got to his car, Harry paused with a flat frown. Zayn was leaned against the hood, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket.  
"What." Harry sighed, walking up to him. Zayn made it hard to push him away, appearing so neutral and side-less. He wanted to group him in with Louis and tell him to get off his car so he could go home. But, with his hands in his jacket pockets and his dark hair in a perfect mess, it was hard to give him the cold shoulder.  
"Just came to check up on you." He drawled, smooth voice relaxing his defenses. "Making sure you haven't moved away."  
"Haven't wanted to talk." He murmured, putting his hands in his pockets.  
"Well, that's fortunate 'cause your phone doesn't work." Zayn smiled in half hearted amusement.  
"Right. Well, I'm here." Harry shrugs, brow creasing.  
"Right." He was quiet for a moment, "Well, you should come back around."  
"I think I'm alright."  
"One of you has to do something, you can't just keep giving each other the silent treatment." Harry looked away, feeling bitter at the thought of Louis purposefully ignoring him. He didn't respond.  
"I don't think Louis' going to do it. He just mopes and smokes."  
"That doesn't even make sense. You'd have me go and fix everything when he wouldn't do the same?" Zayn frowns.  
"I don't think it's like that. I think he would, he just... I don't think he feels right about going to you himself. He keeps pouting and bitching and saying you'll come get him but he's worrying about it. Probably has to do with your weird choking thing." Harry grimaced, never liking the word 'choking' to be used to describe it. "You don't have to talk at all, just come back. You could also hang around _me_ again, I could use someone who's willing to sit there and not talk my ear off. You've got your own charm when your not isolating yourself. S'not right to go away from your friends, we miss you."  
"Louis does?" Harry grit his teeth looking away again. He didn't want to sound pathetic but, he supposes, a spade is a spade.  
"Yeah, I think so." Zayn huffed a chuckle, "He's not wanting to talk about it much but he smokes a lot and he's always wound up. I think he's really worried you're not gonna come for him."  
"Maybe he shouldn't have gone with some stranger." Harry muttered.  
"I didn't think it would matter so much to you." He didn't answer.  
_Neither did I._

-

Harry was a little softened, perhaps. Maybe by the time away from Louis or Zayn's words. But he didn't want to be around Louis and know he wasn't only his.  
He would come back, however.  
He was beat to it when Louis showed up at his door at night, his eyes unhappy.  
"Louis?" Harry stared for a minute before letting him in. Louis' steps were tense and a little quick, his chest noticeably tight and his breath shallow. He stopped a few steps inside, facing Harry silently.  
"I thought you were going to come back." The words stumbled into the air from his voice, hurt and uncertainty clear. He still stunned him with his eyes. Even his eyes conveyed his unrest but were ruled by his strength and unruly freedom. It was a strange, beautiful balance between crippling vulnerability and spiteful defiance.  
"I..." Harry blanked, staring at Louis' conflicted eyes. "I didn't know you were waiting."  
"I wasn't!" He snapped, "You're a proper idiot, aren't you? You can't just run away when you get upset and - and piss off! I don't need you or your stupid help with my breathing thing or- or-! Just because I wanted to try something before I made any decisions doesn't mean you get to just - I - just withdraw! I was just trying! I had every right to try it, you had no right to - to do that. I don't even need your help. I don't need you either, I'm fine. It doesn't even matter. I'm fine."  
What Harry had thought was just Louis breathing quickly from his anger or yelling, was now turning into him breathing progressively faster as he stood there silently. He swallowed, panting and eyes wide with aggression and hurt and edged with something like panic. His breathing was the loudest thing in the room, feeding through Harry's mind and prompting him to react. Louis squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, panting and clenching his teeth, the anger fading from his expression.  
"Louis." Harry stared for a moment, in surprise. _Is he..._  
The sound of his breath was sending reactivity into Harry's muscles, pushing him and shoving him to do something. He grabbed Louis by his arm, pulling him to his bedroom.  
"No!" Louis yelped, his breathing picking up until he was sure he was hyperventilating, distressed murmurs slipping past his lips. He pulled and struggled against Harry, body tight and unyielding as Harry dragged him to his bed.  
Louis was still fighting him at the edge of the bed, pulling and nearly panicking. Harry was careful to push him down onto the bed. The bed came up to just above Louis' knees, so he was able to push him against the edge and force his knees to give. Harry lay him down on his side, hands carefully pinning him so that his struggles - which were much more challenging than he'd have expected - couldn't get him off of the bed.  
"Stop!" Louis yelped and he almost did, instinctively reactive to Louis' desires. But when he felt the shaking in his hands and the frantic panting in his breath he carefully, purposefully kept his hold.  
Standing over him, he pushed his shoulder so they were both laying back on the bed, his upper body laying flat and his hips still curved to the side a little. Harry carefully took his throat in his hand, one hand still holding Louis' struggling arms. Louis squeezed his eyes shut just before he cut off his air. He didn't speak, holding his breathe fast and sealed in his hand. Louis' struggles faltered in reaction and picked back up, kicking and shaking his head, squirming in frustration. With one of Harry's hands preoccupied, Louis pulled an arm free and gripped Harry's wrist, all of his energy seeming to transfer through his tight hand. He pushed and clawed at it. Harry's hand opened, giving way to Louis' shuttering gasp. He panted, looking anywhere but Harry's eyes, his own still filled with his quiet panic. Harry kept the intervals rigid, giving no room for any give or take in the amount of time he didn't breath or did breath, opening and closing his hand in short, even breaks.  
He closed his hand back, Louis' eyes glistening as they welled with tears. Harry had never felt so much like stopping in the middle of this before. Louis' mouth opened to breath in when he knew he couldn't, blinking on the tears that made his gorgeous, blue, unhappy eyes shine. His gut rolled with the sharp instinct to let go and wrap Louis in a hug and kiss him, drive away the tears. But his steady, level head kept his hand around his neck in the perfect gentle pressure he knew would never leave bruises or make him hurt.  
He released, giving Louis air as he panted in his hand, holding onto his arm tightly now only for grounding. He breathed for a moment, swallowing and resigning to it. He never really had much choice but to focus on Harry when he did this, even if he wanted to. Whatever he wanted was always erased by the focus of breathing when he was allowed to and waiting to when he wasn't. His thoughts were always quieted by this, whatever he wanted being forced out by the knowledge that Harry would close his hand again and that he needed to breathe in that time.  
Harry closed his hand right on time, making sure Louis didn't get enough time to think of struggling, and on the schedule he was keeping in his thoughts.  
Louis blinked in distress as his hand squeezed down, pushing a tear out of the corner of his eye. It was the only one, Harry was grateful for that. He let go of Louis' wrist, still trapped against his chest. Gently, he wiped away the tear, returning his hand gently to Louis' wrist only to hold it softly.  
He released, Louis sucking in deep, solid breaths. His eyes were still distressed but his the pattern of his breath, which was suspiciously near hyperventilating, was now even. Louis blinked open his eyes, focusing on a point near Harry's shoulder. Harry quietly crooned little hushing sounds, cutting his air out again.  
With his free hand, he lifted it from Louis' wrist and placed it with comforting weight on his waist. He pet him softly, making soothing cycles from his ribs to his hips and over again. Letting go, Louis breathed in again with more calm and steadiness than before. He continued to pet him, Louis lifting his eyes from the point he had chosen to focus on to meet Harry's. Harry felt his breath under his hand as Louis' now calmer, vulnerable eyes connected with his.  
"Good, Louis." Harry murmured quietly, letting him breathe for a few adjusted seconds longer. He kept his intervals even and calculated as before, only allowing for a few more seconds of reward now that he was calmer. Louis' hand was still wrapped tightly around his wrist, but his eyes grew calmer and quieter as Harry pet him and stopped his respiration once again. "Good." He whispered.  
Louis blinked his eyes closed for a moment before opening them, still emotional and unhappy, but calm. Tears gone. Louis' hips lay back on the bed from where they were on their side, leaving him open and layed out for him. His thighs together, shirt riding up a tiny bit on his stomach. Harry's hand stilled and lay against his ribs, palm feeling their movement.  
Harry kept it up about five more times after he'd seen that Louis was calm once again, letting go for a final time and leaving his hand on his neck as he held his gaze. Louis watched him unfailingly, their gaze connecting them and giving them a sort of silent communication.  
He held his hand there, Louis' breathing deep and even, slowing as he passed the mark of where he knew Harry would have closed again. Harry thought for a brief moment, how Louis would absolutely chew him out for taking control like he just had on a normal day. Now, however, he simply swallowed and let his breath fan over Harry's arm.  
Harry pulled his hand from his throat, leaving the warm skin and staying leaned over him. Louis adjusted to the release, nodding his head and blinking as the mentality of submission shifted.  
"Alright?" Harry checked, receiving a quiet nod. "Stay right here, okay? Don't move, stay, I'll be right back."  
He straightened up, feeling a tiny twinge in his back from being leaned over. Louis stayed on his back, watching him walk out. He retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator, returning to the small room to find him unmoved. The settling, relaxing shift in Louis' eyes when he returned to the room wasn't lost on him. He set the bottle on the bedside table, leading Louis with his hands to sit up, sitting down with him farther from the edge of the bed.  
He didn't hold him too close, or crowd his space, giving him the water. He sat close to him, framing him and his hands touching in friendly, comforting, platonic places.  
"Are you okay? Does anything hurt, is everything okay?" Harry murmured quietly, waiting for him to finish drinking.  
"Tired." He sighed heavily, taking more water. Maybe he was thirsty or the water was just something that had become a comforting routine, but it seemed to ease down whatever was left of his defenses. He didn't always get water but, most every time Harry thought a session was at all serious, he did. Now it helped let Louis know it was time to relax, the stress falling out of his muscles and the fatigue from the week of being without Harry setting in.  
"We can sleep, if you want." He murmured, catching the shift in Louis' eyes as he thought about the things he had yelled at him and the fact that he'd confused and hurt Harry by going to someone else. "It's fine, we'll talk about it in the morning. Let's just lay down, we'll work it out."  
He thought about the fact that he didn't want, at all, to share Louis. He didn't know what he thought about that, so it tugged at his mind as he said that. He hoped that talking would fix it. He hoped that they didn't talk just for Louis to tell him that he wouldn't be exclusively his. He hoped he could tell Louis that he wanted to only he his from now on and that he would agree. But he pushed all of that aside, forgetting it for tonight at the sight of Louis' sleepy shoulders.  
Louis nodded and Harry helped to pull him out of his jeans, letting him crawl under the covers as he got out of his own.  
It felt good to collapse after a long week of being on edge without him. Just before he drifted off, he felt him shift and opened his own eyes. Louis turned his head to face him. "Thanks." He murmured, voice soft and sounding of quiet importance and gratitude. Harry shuffled closer so their bodies shared warmth in the soft bed, accepting his thanks with the warmth and comfort of his body. Louis lay his head down again, sighing sleepily. 

He mumbled a quiet, 'I love you' in his ear before falling asleep to the squeezing of Louis' hand on his.


End file.
